


Tears In Six Beats

by ryekamasaki



Series: Tears [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryekamasaki/pseuds/ryekamasaki
Summary: Asahi ignores something he shouldn't, and pays the price.





	Tears In Six Beats

**Author's Note:**

> I was having a bad day, and someone needed to be hurt, so. Sorry, glass heart.

The water raining down on him is ice cold. There’s no hot water on at all, and even if he had put it on, he’s been slumped on the shower floor for so long now that there wouldn’t be any left anyway. It does nothing to soothe the consistent, all encompassing burning in his right shoulder. The pain hasn’t let up for months, though it’s only gotten this bad recently. Asahi leans back against the wall, tilts his head back under the spray and lets the water rinse away the still flowing tears. He can’t help but remember the very moment his entire world came crashing down around his ears, never to be repaired.  
  
He can still hear the screaming of the spectators, can feel the eyes of the officials watching them all carefully. Can still feel the scrutinizing stares of the national team scouts in the stands. He’d been a little tired but excited before the game, unendingly nervous but determined to succeed. He’d fought tooth and claw to get even this far, dedicating all his time to exercising and practice to keep the tenuous hold he had on his position on the college team. He regrets that now, knows that his stubborn determination is the root cause of all his problems.  
  
The tiny sprain, the almost insignificant pain that he’d ignored in favor of pain pills and extra exercise, that he’d iced frequently over the course of a day, that he’d worn a brace on like all the advice told him to, had only grown and gotten worse. And though he knew it was getting worse, knew he was trying to treat it to no avail, he couldn’t stop and rest like everyone said was most important. Couldn’t risk stopping for even a day, lest his position be snatched away and given to someone else, someone younger, someone better.  
  
He wouldn’t survive what Suga had in high school, being unceremoniously replaced, pushed to the side in favor of someone else, even though he’d worked his ass off to get where he was. He doesn’t know how Suga had managed to get through it, but he knew that he had no hope of doing the same thing. This was his last and only chance. If he didn’t make it now, he never would, and that would just prove right the voice in his head that constantly tried to tell him how worthless he was.  
  
The scouts at the game were for him, he knew, and before he went out to the court he did everything he could to dull the pain enough to play at his best, so he could rest, confident and content, after he’d secured his future. Except that’s not what happens. He tucks his brace away in his locker and takes a couple of painkillers, though he knows at most all they’ll do is take the edge off the pain. Hopefully it will be enough for him to focus. He stretches very, very carefully, enough to make sure he should be able to move, without already overwhelming his constantly sore muscles.  
  
And he holds up, for the most part. He’s just starting to think that he’ll be able to make it when everything goes to hell in a handbasket. The game is almost over, finally at match point, and his team is winning. He watches the set, how perfect it is, as he runs up for the last spike, and that’s when it happens. Something rips, or tears, or explodes, maybe, in his shoulder. All he can process is the excruciating pain, and the only thing he notices besides that is how one of the others manages to salvage the failed spike.  
  
Everything around him keeps moving even as he falls to his knees in the middle of the court, lip bitten so hard between his teeth that he’s bleeding, trying to keep the pained scream from erupting from his throat. He grasps unconsciously at his shoulder, though he knows it won’t help it feel any better. There’s chaos around him, shouts of glee and victory, people jumping around and celebrating their win. One of his teammates knocks into him, a strong knee shoved into his shoulder, and this time he does yell, and that’s when everyone seems to notice that something is terribly wrong.  
  
The team crowds around him, but he can still just see past them, where the scouts have started talking to the coach, and he can see the way they point at him and shake their heads, jotting their thoughts on a notepad. That’s when he knows that he’s blown his career, along with his shoulder, and the pain overwhelms him so much that he doesn’t even process that the drips on the floor are his tears. People are asking him questions, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to answer them, even when the medics finally make their way over. One of them touches him, gently, trying to see what’s wrong since he won’t tell them, and that only makes the agony flare, and he jerks away violently, nearly topples himself over.  
  
Everything after that is a blur. He knows he makes it off court, knows that he gets to a hospital somehow. He answers questions through a haze, tells them he’s been hurting for ages and has been ignoring it and trying to treat it himself. They give him a shot of some kind, and it hurts at first, but then the pain receded, and he can finally try to focus. That’s when the doctor tells him that if he gets proper treatment now, he should be able to at least heal enough to deal with daily living. He’s lost his chance at playing professionally, and they suggest avoiding any sort of casual sports too, at least until he goes through treatment and rehab and maybe they can reevaluate.  
  
Which leads him to where he is now. Under an icy cold rain that really does nothing but remind him how pathetic he is. He has no future, no plans, nothing. Only the constant pain and his broken dreams, shattered to pieces around him, always jagged and sharp underfoot. They taunt him, and that voice that had always told him he was worthless is finally quiet, only because it had whispered an ‘I told you so’ in satisfaction before it had left him to his misery. He lets his head fall forward again, and his hair swings in wet clumps around his face.  
  
The tears don’t stop, just keep falling to the tile beneath him, mingling with the water dripping from his hair. A sob rips out of him as the memory replays again, the moment his life ended on repeat inside his head, never to be forgotten, and the sound echoes around his tiny bathroom pathetically.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [tumblr](http://ryekamasaki.tumblr.com/).


End file.
